No one to hear me scream
by shadows-of-flame
Summary: Parties explode all over Spargus as soon as Errol is defeated, and Haven is rebuilt. But why is one certain dreadlocked wonder ducking out of it all? Torn reflects on what the war has done. One shot.


No one to hear me scream  
By shadows/of/flame 

Whee, angst.

* * *

_'And there was no one there to hear me scream...'_

The hero had returned, from saving the world yet again.  
Parties were all over Spargus, celebrating Errol's defeat, and the warrior and his pet were yet again the center of attention.

_'What hero? More like thief.'_The soldier thought dully as he watched the brave adventurer claim his prize - the lips of his now ex girlfriend.

What had happened? Where had he gone wrong? Did he deserve the fury of the Precursors, stealing away the one thing worth living for?

He didn't seem to think so.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keira enter the stadium, obviously in as much doubt as he was.

It hadn't rained in the desert city of Spargus for the longest time, but Torn was beginning to doubt that the 57 year without rain record would be held much longer as ominous rainclouds gathered overhead.

People milled around the ex commander, and people went and left the stadium as often as the wind on their faces.

Torn thought they were meant to be together - dancing under a moonlit sky for a few hours after the metalo-maniac Kor had been defeated - did it mean nothing to the red head?

Were men just a thing to be thrown away, like a piece of garbage no longer needed?

_'Well, I don't think Jak will join the rubbish heap anytime soon.'_ Torn thought dully, tracing circles of dancing feet with his sharp-toed boots.

"Tattooed wonder? TATTOOED WONDER!"  
He heard Daxter scream his nickname, and for once, he found he did not have the heart to yell or curse at the small ottsel.

"Hey... dread-head? You in there?" the small ottsel tapped at Torns head, but was pulled back by a now ottsel Tess.  
"We came here to cheer him up, remember?" she hissed, giggling slightly.

"I'm here." Torn murmured, trying to blank Daxter's whiny, high pitched voice out of his head.

"The parties have just started! Come on Torn, or we'll be late!" Tess urged her friend, trying to get him up and going.

He shook his head.  
"I'll... come later. I have some work that needs doing before hand. You guys go ahead."

The two ottsels nodded slowly, and walked towards the door, tails waggling in unison.

Torn bowed his head, unusual grief overcoming him.

He was alone, and not for the first time.

0o0o0

Torn's journey home, back to Haven, was a long and lonely one.

Everyone else had stayed for the rest of the night at Spargus, for the numerous parties that were taking place.

The ex-KG was in no mood to party, especially with the one that had taken all that he cared about away from him.

A few people were lying injured on the streets, moaning until a Freedom Guard officer found them and carried them away to the hospital.

He smiled sadly at the citizens that were yet again trying to rebuild their lives - had a few thousand metal heads really caused all this damage?

He chuckled dryly - of course metal heads caused damage; especially thousands of them.

He switched hover zones as a mad driver muscled his way through, almost smashing into the wall a few metres away.

_'What's the rush anymore? There are no more metal heads to be afraid of...'_

After a few more minutes driving, he found himself back at the Underground.

_'I was supposed to go back to Freedom HQ, but...'_

He opened the door to the Underground, and for once didn't mind the last mess that had been left haphazardly there.

Filthy dishes almost clogged the sink, and Torn knew that he had never been more truly at home than when he was at the old HQ.

Sure, he was the leader of the Freedom Guard, and therefore expected to live and reside there, but the familiar, cinnamony smelling hideout meant more to him than any flash equipment could.

Torn ran a finger along the war table, sighing at the amount of dust that had collected on everything since anyone had last inhabited it.

The main paths through the city were clear enough to walk and hover safely through now, but he knew it was going to be a matter of months before the major construction work, on the Palace and such, would truly begin.

_'Ashelin's probably going to be too busy sticking her tongue down Jak's throat to worry about her city...'_ Torn mused, slipping comfortably into his old squishy chair by the old rusty hover.

After a few minutes of sitting in comfort, he decided to go to bed, and stripped himself of all armour and weapons before laying them on the table.

Moonlight was filtering through the gaps in the curtains as Torn finally clambered into bed, weaponless but fully clothed.

It was a night he could rest easy, as he knew there would be no rat plus renegade barging in and ordering to have another mission, nor a blonde bombshell giivng him the latest news.

All of the above were still in Spargus.

Well, he should have been able to sleep easily, but the kiss haunted his mind, not allowing him to sleep.

Hours passed, and as the night wore on, Torn didn't sleep a wink.

Eventually, he became sick of just lying there being about as productive as a cabbage, and he threw off the covers, something glistening invitingly on the table.

His pistols.

Yawning basically from lack of sleep, the dreadlocked rebel pulled on his armour wearily, picking up his pistols as he went back to sit in the comfy chair.

The clock beside the door read 1:02 am in bold red lettering.  
What a fun time to be awake.

He ran his calloused fingers along the Precursor writing engraved into the steel;

_"Love by war, torn by love, war by torn."_

As Torn cocked the gun to the side, some bullets fell out.

He counted each one as he reloaded the pistols.

2 bullets in each.  
_'I really need to get Jak to get me some more bullets soon...'_

"Hah. 4 eh? 2 for Jak, 2 for Ashelin." He laughed dryly, spinning them around on his fingers, accidentally flicking off the safety.

Two of the remaining bullets sped towards a rotting poster of Errol, leaving a rather large and eerie hole where his face had once been.

Torn smiled sadly...

_"I'm sorry Ashe..."_

...before pulling the trigger one last time.

BANG.


End file.
